The invitation came, complete
with blank biography page,
no doubt to satisfy those aching
to judge what each has become.
Shall I confess to running barefoot
through Asia? Sum the blur
of twenty years in ten lines or less?
I type out my tale of joining the Cirque.
There will be those who know,
who see the humor. But
how well, really, do we ever?
I picture the boardroom scene,
them concentrating as best they can
while seeking specks of glitter in my hair,
quietly eyeing for wires
beneath my pinstriped suit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
enjoyable and fun...a scene to be a part of. -Tailor